Thicker Than Water
by Shadowlass
Summary: Kylo Ren tracks Rey to Ahch-To—not to find Luke, but to tell her the truth about her past. The explosive revelation drives Rey to Kylo's side. Because all Rey's really wanted was her family. (Reylo, Cousin Ben, cousin relationship)
1. Chapter 1

The differences between Jakku and Ahch-To were those of opposites. Searing heat and bone-aching cold, the arid breath of the desert and the damp slap of the ocean wind. The low howl of the sirocco and the constant screech of shore birds.

But the two were more alike than not. They were both barren, places to become lost and lesser.

She did prefer the sound of rain against her rock hut to the scream of the desert wind outside her AT-AT. Its steady music lulled her to sleep when she woke in the night.

But not tonight. Because tonight she knew, as soon as her dream faded, that she was not alone in her hut.

She opened her eyes. Kylo Ren was crouched before her, his cowl down and his face exposed. Even in the flickering firelight she could see the harsh mark that slashed across his face, a mark she'd put there. He'd already been defeated, but she'd done it anyway. She'd been enraged, and he had to pay.

His eyes were quiet now, steady. Not the expression of a man seeking revenge.

Then she realized he wasn't there for her. His real quarry was a few huts away.

He interrupted her darting thoughts. "Luke Skywalker is unharmed. I'm not here for him."

Rey eased into a sitting position, trying to weigh the odds of reaching her staff before he could reach her. "Then why are you here?"

He leaned closer. "I'm here for you, cousin."

* * *

Luke Skywalker awoke with a start. He'd been uneasy for days; now he knew why. He didn't know why the Force had withheld the knowledge that his nephew was coming, but he was on Ahch-To, that much was clear. Ben had always been powerful, and his presence made the island's steady Force-pulse jerk and sway.

Luke picked up his lightsaber. He didn't want to use it against his nephew, but he would if he had to. He wasn't sure if the boy was here for him or for Rey; Ben, he knew, would be delighted to deliver such a Force-powerful girl to his dark master, to train or torture or simply to kill. He could have followed in Luke's footsteps and immersed himself in the Force; instead he'd chosen to follow Vader's path. Yet he forgot that Vader had renounced the dark side in the end. In the end, he'd chosen the light.

He followed Ben's Force signature to Rey's hut. With a feeling of dread Luke pushed the door open. Despite a lifetime of keeping his emotions under control, he was afraid of what he'd find.

Two heads swung towards him. They were standing close together, and to his astonishment Ben was holding her hands in his own. The look on Rey's face was of pure anguish.

"How could you?" Rey choked.

 _No. No, it was impossible_. _There was no way for either of them to know._

"How could you let them leave me on Jakku?" she screamed suddenly, her composure cracking. "I almost died! Every year! Every day! For 15 years! Praying and—and _hoping!_ And you never came. You threw me away like garbage, like—oh, Maker, it's perfect. It's perfect! I was garbage, so I was dropped on a garbage world and survived by scavenging garbage. And even after I came to you, you still didn't tell me. You were never going to tell me, were you?" Luke remained silent, and her voice ratcheted higher. " _Were you_?"

"I don't know what he told you, Rey, but I never—"

"Don't lie to me! I saw it in his head. He let me in and I saw it. No wonder you never looked in my mind. You were afraid I'd look in yours."

"I was trying to protect you," he said soothingly. As if he were trying to calm an animal, she thought in disgust.

"How did anything you do protect me?" she scoffed. "What were you protecting me from? Eating too much? Having a family? Being loved? _How was that protecting me?"_

"Rey, people have been hunting me for decades. It wasn't safe to have you with me."

"So that's why you gave me to Unkar Plutt? So I'd be _safe_ with him?"

"I didn't give you to him personally," Luke said uneasily. "Friends of mine assisted me in seeing to your care."

"Your friends _assisted me_ into a life of starvation and servitude to a pervert. And you never even cared enough to check up on me."

"It's not that I didn't care," Luke argued. "If I'd done that, someone might have added things up and figured out who you were."

"Well, that's what Kylo did. So apparently your _friends_ weren't very careful in the first place."

 _Kylo_. With a scowl Luke turned to his nephew and ignited his lightsaber. The last time he'd felt so angry and helpless had been when he'd seen his father cut down Ben Kenobi, the great Jedi knight his miserable nephew was named for.

He didn't deserve the name Ben.

" _You_ ," Luke growled. He'd been unable to bring himself to hunt his nephew in the wake of the destruction of his temple, but he was enraged that the boy had turned Luke's own daughter against him. Out of necessity their relationship had not been conventional, but it was all he had been able to do. His commitment to the Force demanded no less.

Kylo ignited his own lightsaber. He'd pulled it out as soon as Rey had released his hands, knowing this was likely to go badly. Children resented it when their parents treated them like toys they didn't want to play with any more. But somehow the parents in his family never seemed to realize this.

"Stop it," hissed Rey. She held out her hand and Luke's lightsaber, the legendary Skywalker lightsaber that had served so many in his family, flew into her hand. Luke started to protest, but she ignored him and addressed Kylo. "Did you mean it? About teaching me?"

Kylo deactivated his saber. If he was surprised by her reference to his offer from months before, he didn't show it. "Yes."

"Then let's go."

Luke began shaking his head, unable to comprehend what was happening. "Rey? What are you doing?"

"I'm leaving with Kylo."

"Are you mad? Do you understand who he is? The things he's _done_? Why would you do this?"

Kylo spoke up. "She wants her family."

"I'm her father!"

It was Rey who answered him, her eyes bright with tears before she blinked them back. "No. You were never my father."

Kylo moved beside her, holding something out to her. Her cloak; he'd removed it from atop the rough-hewn chest. She turned and let him drape it over her and fasten it against her throat.

"Don't—" Luke croaked.

"The time for you to talk was before I got here," Kylo said coldly. "You were never going to, were you?"

The long look Luke gave Kylo told Rey everything she had to know. She swore under her breath and began pulling her boots on.

"He's a killer," Luke warned.

"You're a killer. I'm a killer."

"He's beyond redemption—even I couldn't save him."

"You couldn't save him, you didn't save me. I guess we have a lot in common." She nodded to Kylo. "Let's go."

He started for the door and she moved to follow him, but Luke grabbed her wrist. "Don't do this."

Slowly, coldly, Rey withdrew her wrist from his grasp. "Do what you've always done … and forget about me."

She stepped into the night. Ahch-To's eternal rain had slacked to a drizzle, and the moon illuminated the crumbling stone structures. This island had been home to the first gathering of Force users, and now it was witnessing the last.

It would be the last time she ever set foot on Ahch-To, and at the moment she wished it would burn.

Kylo stretched an arm towards her. She thought he was reaching for her sack of belongings, but an unseen hand froze her in place. Not his.

A soft thump sounded behind her, and she could move again. She turned to see Luke Skywalker lying just outside the doorway to her hut.

Her father. Her _father_ lying just outside the doorway.

She should feel bad, shouldn't she? Concerned. He'd been a legend, the revered savior of the galaxy, a story told to children. And here, she'd found him to be a real man. A man who refused to return to help the Resistance, but who'd agreed to train her.

A man who'd never told her that he was the one who'd condemned her to a desperate, lonely childhood and never given her a second thought. A man who'd been happy to let her call him master instead of father.

Maybe she'd be worried when she calmed down. At the moment, she couldn't summon the will to worry about a man who'd been happy to consign her to a life of misery. She felt darkness try to curl around her and pushed it back, but her resentment didn't soften. "Is he dead?"

"No. He'll regain consciousness in a few minutes."

"Why did you do it?"

"He was going to stop you."

"What do you care?"

He studied her for a moment before turning and starting for his ship. "We could both use some family."

"I don't want to go to Snoke," she warned.

Kylo stopped and slanted her an unreadable look. "No, of course not."

"So what happens?"

"We get off the planet. Then we get lost."

* * *

They were silent as they boarded his ship. The thought was on her mind, and surely his, that Luke might wake before they could leave. She didn't want another struggle. It had been all she could do to control herself in the hut. She didn't think she could stand another confrontation without crying.

She trailed Kylo to the cockpit and followed his lead, strapping herself into the co-pilot's seat. She had the stupid impulse to offer to fly the ship, but had no idea where they were going. He took them off-world without a wasted moment; clearly he didn't want another confrontation with Luke either. He had them in a hyperspace corridor before her pulse calmed.

Now she was alone with Kylo Ren, in a First Order ship, with no idea of what to do next. The only thing she was aware of was a sense of betrayal so deep it seemed to have no surface.

Right now she couldn't be around anyone, much less Kylo Ren. He looked at her like he knew her every thought, and at the moment she couldn't bear to be known.

"Would you like to retire?"

She rubbed her forehead. "What?"

"Go to bed. There's a bedroom you can have. Down the passageway to the left past the briefing room. The fresher's on the other side."

"What about you?"

"I want to keep an eye on the conn until we can get an unmarked ship. I disabled the tracker, but by now the Supreme Leader knows I'm not where I'm supposed to be."

"Will he suspect where you went?"

Kylo stared at her, his steady regard making her a little uncomfortable. "He'll suspect all sorts of things."

* * *

The bedroom of the shuttle was the most luxurious thing Rey had ever seen. The First Order spared no expense even in the most utilitarian of spaces, one sure to be barely used, even this night. She slept scant hours and woke up exhausted. Her eyes ached from first repressing tears and then indulging in them. Her throat was painful as well. Her stomach was empty, and the thought of food nauseated her. None of her parts seemed to fit. She was a broken ship, detritus.

When she entered the cockpit Kylo Ren was bent over a datapad. When he looked up he seemed no worse for wear. He studied her and his eyebrows raised.

"Second thoughts?"

She looked at him. Even when he didn't nudge into her mind he had an eerie way of reading her emotions. But this time he was wrong. "No."

"But…?"

She hesitated. "You studied under him, didn't you?"

He knew who she meant. "When I was a child, yes."

"Was he … different? When he was younger?"

Kylo hesitated. He found it difficult to be anything but scornful of his uncle. He was strict and careful, a disciple to a failed religion, and as devout an adherent as all the dead Jedi could wish.

Yet he knew, from his parents' stories, that Luke Skywalker had once been open and playful, full of youthful passions. Kylo was older than Luke had been in his earliest memories, yet none of that had been evident. The weight of thousands of years of tradition devolving to this single man had drained the recognizable human emotions from him, leaving him less a man than a wraith.

But the girl standing before him was proof that Luke had had some humanity left in him, some longing he hadn't extinguished. Just not enough to love and protect her as he should.

Just following family tradition, really.

"Last night was the first time I saw my uncle since I left him. He seemed exactly the same as he always was. Dogmatic. Devoted to Jedi tradition, despite the fact that the time of the Jedi has passed." Kylo chewed his lip for a moment. "He's not a bad man. He just doesn't know any other way. I'm sure he didn't mean to be cruel, leaving you. He felt he had a higher calling."

Rey gritted her teeth. How could someone have a higher calling than his own child? She'd waited and hoped and starved because he had a calling to sit around meditating and balancing rocks? "That doesn't make me feel better."

"What would make you feel better?"

She thought a moment and shook her head. She couldn't think of a thing.

Kylo looked disturbed. She could tell he was casting about for things to cheer her. "I killed Unkar Plutt."

Her jaw dropped. _"What?"_

It was unimaginable, Unkar Plutt dead, yet at the thought a fierce satisfaction filled her. He had been a pestilence to everyone in Niima Outpost, their owner in all but name, watching in amusement as they scraped and struggled, granting them only enough food to cling to life. He used them until they died and then didn't even glance at their corpses.

 _Unkar Plutt, dead._

"I went to Jakku when I was investigating your past. I knew you had to be more than a random scavenger. I'd seen him in your mind. Saw the way he treated you. I talked to him and found out everything he knew. I'd seen you, you know. Years ago."

For a moment she lost her breath. "When?"

"I was still at Luke's academy. I saw a woman come in with a baby, then leave, very upset. It wasn't until I spoke to Unkar Plutt that everything fell into place. Your mother died not long after you were born. Her friend brought you to Luke Skywalker, but he said it was impossible for him to raise a baby while reestablishing the Jedi order. She raised you for a while, but her husband wasn't happy having a child around. Eventually he insisted they find a new place for you. They gave Unkar Plutt money to look after you and teach you a trade."

"Plutt knew my father was Luke Skywalker?"

"The woman wrote you a note. Plutt was to give it to you when you were old enough to understand it."

Her head was spinning. "He never gave it to me—never said anything—"

"No. He planned to use it eventually, as a last-ditch measure. To achieve your acquiescence."

"Acquiescence," she repeated dully.

"I saw how he treated you. I saw it in his mind, and I saw him slowly reducing your payments in order to make you more desperate. Saw what he planned to do. So I killed him. I'm not Luke Skywalker," he added. "I protect my family."

The rush of pleasure she took in the assertion turned bitter almost immediately. "You killed your father," she reminded him.

The look he gave her was sharp. "Who do you think taught me about abandonment?"

* * *

For a while they just fled. There was no other way to describe it. Kylo got them a new ship and they skipped from system to system as they made sure no one, First Order or Resistance, was following them. He was a wanted man on both sides.

She, of course, wasn't wanted and never had been. Until now.

On the long spaceflights they trained. He was her teacher now. He was as implacable about training as Luke Skywalker had been, but the sessions felt very different. Luke had been distant. Even with his own daughter his focus had been on another plane. Kylo was like a coal, dark and enkindled. His attention burned, and in the moments it wasn't on her she was chilled by its absence. He was her master in ways Luke Skywalker had never been: Her use of the Force seemed inextricable from him, because he was always there, his gaze a palpable weight, his power brushing against her own, urging her to push herself.

From a distance.

The first few days, when her forms were imprecise, his corrections were immediate and intimate. Nudging her elbow out and up. Grasping her shoulders or hips in his hands to adjust her stance. Slipping behind her to mold her against him until she understood the nuances of the position.

Then, nothing.

Now even when he introduced new exercises he didn't touch her, no matter how complex the form. The change puzzled her. Disappointed her, really. His touch was reassuring.

She didn't understand the change. He liked her, she knew that. Enjoyed her company. He smiled at her. Sometimes he laughed. He nudged more food onto her plate at meals and prodded her to tell him about her life on Jakku. He knew some, of course, from Starkiller. But he wanted to hear the details of her life, and he wanted her to tell him.

So she told him about restoring a speeder everyone else thought was too far gone even to salvage. She told him about how she'd snuggled in her AT-AT during sandstorms, playing with her flight simulator. She told him how she'd taught herself to climb and rappel, and the many falls she'd had. His face had creased with dismay until she'd laughed at him, and then he'd laughed, reluctantly.

He told her about their family and promised to take her to Naboo, where their grandparents had wed. Their grandmother had been its queen, he said. It was unimaginable to her. Surely he was telling her stories to make her smile.

One night as they sat at the table after dinner she told him about old Sāo, one of the scavengers who scratched out a living at Niima Outpost. Once, after Rey had been sick for days and unable to scavenge, she'd managed to drag herself to the trading post. She knew better than to ask Unkar Plutt to take pity on her and give her food or even credit on future hauls, but she'd hoped, desperately, that he would give her a quarter portion in exchange for doing maintenance around the outpost. If she had anything to eat, anything at all, she could find the strength to scavenge. But after a week without food and days of illness, she had nothing left. She'd always been able to find some reserves within herself, but they were gone.

So she'd made her offer to Unkar Plutt, and he agreed to give her portions, many portions.

Not for maintenance.

She left that part out when she told Kylo. He might have found out when he'd reamed Plutt's mind, but mentioning it would upset him, and she loved the contentment on his face when they talked. A few times his temper had spiked when she'd mentioned close calls, and she didn't want to taint their peace. Plutt being disgusting wasn't the point of the story. He was nothing but a stain now, and that knowledge had released her. Even before he came to her on Ahch-To, before she agreed to join him, Kylo had been looking out for her. He'd been unable to keep her safe in the past, so he destroyed that past the only way he could.

They were each other's only family, a commodity more precious than aurodium. She knew they would both fight to protect it.

When, years before, Rey had stood in front of Unkar Plutt, defeated and disgusted and terrified that she'd hear herself agreeing before she could bite the words back, she'd felt a bony hand grasp her arm. She'd turned and Sāo had been there, shaking her head. She pressed something into Rey's hand.

A roll, a sliver of green protein wedged inside it. Probably the only thing Sāo had to eat for the day.

Sāo had jerked her head towards the door, and Rey didn't argue. She didn't push the roll back at Sāo, didn't pretend that she'd be fine without it. She left the outpost with Plutt's shouts ringing in her ears.

Sāo was the only reason Rey had made it. One way or another, she wouldn't have survived without Sāo.

Rey was lost in the past when she felt a pressure on her hand and realized Kylo had covered it with his own. He fumbled and squeezed it spasmodically before releasing it, and she could feel his tension. That's when she realized that his reluctance to touch had nothing to do with her: It was any physical contact at all. He'd told her it had been years since anyone had so much as seen his face. But he'd taken off his helmet for her even when she was his enemy, and now he forced himself to comfort her, skin to skin, despite his discomfort.

For her he did things he would never do for anyone else.

So she didn't tell him that she learned better when he helped her achieve the forms, or that sometimes she desperately wanted to be held; it was a luxury she'd never had, and she could do without it. She didn't offer to put his hair in knots, even when it got in his eyes, and she didn't lean against him when they were talking after dinner and her eyelids grew heavy.

But while she was thinking of Kylo's terrible aloneness, he was thinking of hers. Even with Unkar Plutt's disgusting suggestion omitted from the story, Kylo seemed haunted by her deprivation. "I would have come for you if I'd known," he said, his voice low.

"You would have frightened me." Even when she'd been armed with a blaster he'd scared her.

"I would never hurt you. You know that, don't you?"

She smiled. He'd never hurt her. Not deliberately.

"Are you frightened of me now?"

Rey studied him, the serious eyes that never left her, the powerful shoulders hunched as if he were trying not to intimidate her. She didn't know where they were going or what they were going to do when they got there, and she still barely knew him. She just knew she couldn't stand the thought of being away from him.

Yes. Yes, she was frightened.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's note:**_ _Thanks so much to Viktor2040 for the review. And to everyone else reading this...writers require care and feeding! They may continue writing without feedback, but it's pointless to continue posting without it. When you read a story, if you like it or want to read more, let the author know._

In the evenings, before bed, they meditated together. Sat on the floor facing each other and allowed their power to reach out and intertwine. The sympathy that throbbed through the connection was heady, a bright living thing that only existed between the two of them.

He stayed out of her mind. Maybe one day she'd be comfortable enough to invite him in, but not yet. It had been her place of refuge her entire life, and she was not yet ready to relinquish it.

But it was feeling increasingly unnecessary.

"You're not concentrating," he reproved. She didn't have to open her eyes to see the smile on his face. They'd been rare in the beginning, but now she saw them almost daily. Sometimes he cast his eyes down when he smiled, as if embarrassed. His life, she thought, had also been … disordered. It was hard to say he'd been deprived, the son of royalty and war heroes. He seldom spoke of his parents, but his few bitter allusions to them did not suggest the childhood she would have expected.

Maybe she shouldn't be so surprised. Who would turn to a monster like Snoke if they had a caring family?

"I'm concentrating," she lied.

"Then why are you humming?"

"I balance stones better when I hum." They'd picked up stones on one of their stops, because datapads were too easy to stack. Kylo had said if she kept stacking datapads she'd only be able to defeat conveniently shaped enemies.

It made no sense, but she'd laughed anyway.

She'd like to practice with stones from a garden, though—their garden. Or pebbles from a beach they visited. They'd been running for so long. "Can we stop yet?"

"We just started."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know."

* * *

It was on perhaps the seventh backwater planet they'd stopped at for fuel and supplies that Rey rebelled.

"I've never been anywhere and I've never done anything," she complained as they loaded the ship.

"You've been to planets all over the galaxy," he said, visibly tensing.

"I've been out of the ship for half an hour on each of them! And all we do is load up the ship and take off."

"Do you want the First Order to find us?"

She tilted her head. " _Us_?"

His face fell before he could shutter his expression. She opened her mouth to apologize, but his mask, the one he'd dropped almost completely with her, was again in place.

Guilt stabbed at her. He'd been an ideal companion, a friend. He'd been honest with her when her own father hadn't, watched out for and over her as no one ever had. And she didn't want any of that to stop. The very thought of it made her stomach clench.

"I'm sorry," she rushed out. "That was an idiotic thing to say."

He shrugged, and her heart broke. The show of indifference was the only lie he'd ever told her.

"No, you're right. It's only me they're after."

"They may not be after you," she insisted. She didn't know which of them she was reassuring.

"No. It's likely, though. The Supreme Leader breaks toys, he doesn't give them away." He looked at the ground. "It might be safer for you if we split up. You could explore the galaxy without looking behind you. We can buy you a ship, or get you a berth on a freighter. It would probably be best if you didn't use this one, since I'm associated with it. You need a clean start."

When he finally met her eyes she was shaking her head. "You are so dramatic!"

His jaw dropped. " _What_?"

"All I want is to go to a cantina and get something to eat. That's it. I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you. I was a jerk, and I'm sorry. Now let's go get something to eat and then we'll take off, and we'll be fine." She almost took his hand, but restrained herself. The last thing she wanted to do was make him uncomfortable.

His face was a little stiff. She couldn't believe she'd been so thoughtless. Her galaxy was growing, but at its heart it was just the two of them. And she'd made him feel like she didn't care. If anything happened to him—if the First Order seized him or killed him—

 _No, don't think of it._ If she did she'd go mad.

She cast him a surreptitious look, but he was staring ahead as they started down the road. She forced herself not to stare, but was unable to stop sneaking glances. He finally caught her, and his expression eased a little.

She felt the tension in her stomach release.

It had been two months since he came to her on Ahch-To. Two months of running from system to system, only stopping on minor worlds to refuel and replenish their supplies. They'd had no company but each other, and now, as she followed him into a cantina, she was a little apprehensive about being around other people. Which was probably stupid. All she knew was that on their little ship she felt safe and wanted, and she regretted her ill-bourne impulse.

She patted her waistband, wanting a little reassurance. Her lightsaber—the Skywalker lightsaber—was hidden there. She still had her staff, but it was more discreet to simply tuck away the lightsaber than haul around a big obvious whacking stick. Kylo stepped inside and stopped, surveying the room for threats. She knew he'd entered first so he could shield her.

She'd taken care of herself her entire life. She could take care of herself now. She could take care of _him_.

But for the first time she didn't have to be on guard. He wanted to protect her, and the experience was heady. _She mattered._ She was _important_ to someone.

He turned to her and inclined his head, gesturing towards some empty stools near the end of the bar. "This place looks … adequate."

They sat down, and he nodded towards a menu written on a board. Her face brightened at the number of things she hadn't tried, which was all of them.

"Are stellan wings good?" she asked excitedly.

"Don't order that."

"What about nassir skewers?"

"Or that."

"How about stuffed zamolachik?"

"Or that."

"Why not?" she demanded in frustration.

"Too risky. You're likely to end up sick."

"What about you?"

He blinked. "Me too. Both of us. We'll get halfway to the next system and we'll feel like we're dying, and then we really might die."

"Food can _do_ that?"

"In a place like this it _will_ do that."

"Then what can we order?"

He stared at the board. "Fried murat should be okay."

"What's murat?"

"It's a root vegetable. They slice it and fry it, and it's…" his voice drifted off, and he got a faraway look in his eyes.

"Kylo?"

He shook his head as if dislodging a pleasant vision. "I enjoyed it as a boy. You'll like it."

"I've never had anything fried," she admitted.

"Then you'll love it."

"Most of their food seems to be fried. Do we want to try the others? What about the cholmo fingers?"

"It's hard for murat to spoil. It's very easy for cholmo to spoil, especially in a place like this."

She didn't want to try the other things enough to maybe die. Besides, that just left more for her to try once they were safe and didn't have to stay on fringe worlds any longer. "Okay. What's safe to drink?"

Kylo raised his hand and a server came over. "We'll have the fried murat. And bring us each a bottle of Lysia."

"What's that?" Rey asked after the server went in the back to relay their order.

"It's a soft drink. You'll like it. It's sweet."

"Just sweet?"

"And it bubbles."

Rey couldn't repress a smile. A drink that _bubbled_? It was a wonderful day.

* * *

He was right: She did like the Lysia. She drained the bottle, and he had the server bring her another. She laughed as the bubbles overflowed the top of the bottle, as if too excited to contain themselves.

He was also right about the fried murat, but refused to order more. More would make her ill, he said. Why did everything on this planet wanted to sicken her?

The server took the well-cleaned platter and, at Kylo's direction, brought cups of a tea Rey had never tried before, citrusy and bitter. When she winced after tasting it he poured some honey into her cup and stirred it carefully before handing it back to her. She thought vaguely that she should be irritated at his fussing; she'd been caring for herself her entire life. She did it reflexively, since she'd never known anything else.

But each time he fussed over her, each time he spooned more food on her plate, each time his eyes sparked because he worried about her, reminded her that she had family now. She didn't have to fight alone to survive, and she didn't have to protect her independence against predators. For the first time in her life she could exhale. Because Kylo was there, and he protected her as once only she had.

She privately vowed to protect him the same way.

It was strange to share caring and concern. To hang your happiness on that of another. It provided its own anxiety, because where she once only worried about herself, she now worried about him. It was somehow more acute and troubling than worrying about herself. Her struggle had been daily, life or death. It had not been easy, but it had been simple. This was mysterious, a system to which she had no map.

Beside her Kylo looked lazy, almost relaxed. "Are you ready to go?"

"Just let me finish my tea."

"You mean your honey?"

"You're the one who ordered the galaxy's most disgusting tea!"

One corner of his mouth curled. Almost a smile.

"Well, you usua—" he broke off, his eyes locking onto a point in the distance behind her. She started to turn, but his sudden grasp on her hand stopped her. Instead she sought out the mirror at the end of the narrow room and saw a big man standing in the doorway. His dark, expensive attire had clearly been designed for intimidation, and it worked. He looked much tougher than anyone else in the bar, including she and Kylo in their nondescript civilian clothes, chosen to allow them to fade into insignificance at this trading post.

The man would be no challenge to the two of them, but making a scene would attract attention. And if he was an undercover First Order agent, then his movements were being tracked. Killing him would draw the First Order to them like a homing beacon.

Her voice was soft, not even a whisper. "Should we—"

Then his mouth was on hers, smothering her words and stealing her breath. His tongue swiped against her lips once, twice, and for some reason she parted them. He was kissing her to hide them from the man at the door, to keep them safe, she understood, but then his tongue was pushing into her mouth, stroking the tender insides of her lips and tracing along her own tongue and she couldn't think, only cling to him.

He wrapped over her, his big body hunched and conforming to hers. One hand pushed through her hair to the back of her head, holding her to him, while the other spread against the small of her back, stroking and soothing.

Then he pulled back slightly, eyes cheating past her to the doorway, and she remembered why he was kissing her. She forced herself to ignore the way her mind spun and looked up to the mirror.

The man was gone.

She forced herself to release Kylo. She was dizzy and strangely enervated, but she knew he'd only disregarded his aversion to touching in order to protect them.

She cleared her throat a little. "Should we wait a while to be sure he's gone?"

He stared at her, searching her face. She didn't know what he was looking for. She wanted to reassure him, but she wasn't sure how.

Finally he nodded. He still cupped the back of her head, his hand stroking her rhythmically. On some level he must still have been worried. He probably wouldn't relax until they were out of the system. His protectiveness, once so foreign to her, had become something she treasured, a sign that someone cared.

"It's time to leave," he said, pulling his hand away and tossing a handful of credits on the bar. "We need to get off this world. The sooner the better."

* * *

She went straight to her room. When Kylo bought them a ship he'd gotten one with a bedroom for each of them, which she had appreciated for multiple reasons … among them that she'd never lived in such close proximity with someone else before, and a lack of privacy would likely drive her crazy. And right now she desperately needed privacy.

He'd barely looked at her on the way back to the ship, instead uneasily scanning the road. He kept one hand on her elbow, guiding her, ready to pull her behind him at any time. She didn't need a barrier between her and danger, but the instinctiveness of the gesture moved her. He wouldn't do it for anyone else, she knew. Only for her.

His other hand had been at his waist, above where his lightsaber was hidden.

Now he was maneuvering them off Vuln and into hyperspace. By the time she woke up the next morning they'd be halfway across the galaxy, and the man from the bar, whatever his intent, would be in the past.

She washed her face and changed for bed. She knew sleep would be a long time in coming.

She tried not to think of the kiss. Kylo's lips soft against hers, brushing lightly. Then, after a moment, not light at all. Pushing her mouth open, his tongue sweeping inside, swallowing her gasp. Dragging his tongue along hers.

It was the most intimate thing she'd ever experienced, even more than when they communed in the Force. Even when he'd pushed into her mind on Starkiller, and she'd pushed her way into his. And nothing, absolutely nothing like the men at Niima Outpost who thought they had the right to take whatever they wanted—before she set them straight with her staff.

She had a sudden sense-memory of the pressure of Kylo's lips against hers, the feel of his tongue seeking entrance. Her mind flashed brightly and ashed over, and she sank down on the bed, feeling weak.

She heard the whisper of the door opening and looked up. Kylo stood in the doorway, eyes hooded.

She leapt up, burningly aware that she was only wearing an oversized shirt. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her legs and suppressed the urge to tug the shirt down. They were just legs; everyone had them. He was her cousin. It was perfectly normal for them to see each other more casually. They were family, the only family they had.

"I don't feel like meditating tonight," she said lamely. She should have told him before going to her room.

He stepped closer.

"I know that the kiss was, um, necessary because of me. I insisted we go out, and I put us in danger. Especially you. It was my fault. I know you don't like to touch people, and I'm sorry you had to do that to protect us. I don't want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. You've done more for me than anyone in my life. You—" she broke off, feeling inadequate to explain how tightly she felt bound to him. He'd laugh at her if he knew.

No, he wouldn't laugh; he would never do that to her. But he might pity her, and she couldn't stand that. "I should never have—"

Kylo took her face in his hands and leaned his forehead against hers, his eyes shut. " _I want to touch you every moment of the day_. Every moment I don't have my hands on you is one I curse." He opened his eyes, spearing her with the heat of his gaze. "I've tried to be good. I wasn't even thinking when I went to Ahch-To, don't know how I thought this was going to work. I think about you _all the time_. If you don't want this I'll never mention it again. I'll cut it out of me like a tumor. I'll forget I ever stroked the inside of your lips or tasted your tongue, and we'll go back to how we were. I know you don't want this. I'm your only family. How could you want this? You're beautiful and pure and strong, and I'm sick and malignant, so I want you. I'm sorry. I can't—I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He shook his head, dread and self-hatred beginning to seep in past the spurt of desire. He had given in to impulse often over the years; his emotional nature was his greatest weakness. Usually it took the form of angry outbursts, flashes of violence that were soon sated. This, what he felt for Rey, would not be satisfied quickly. It was already engraved on his soul, and the only thing he could do was find a way to bear it. And now he had unnerved her and humiliated himself, laying his heart bare for a girl who wanted only the comfort of family. "I'm sorry," he whispered again, releasing her and drawing back.

Rey stared at him as if he were mad. Which was right, and the only reasonable way to view him. He was a wild animal and could not be trusted. Not with Rey.

But at the moment he felt less like biting and clawing and more like laying at her feet in surrender. He was a failure as a cousin and a lover both. He'd thrown the former aside for a chance at the latter, and his betrayal burned him.

She caught his hand as he turned. "Kiss me."

He stared at her, uncomprehending. It was a long moment, very long, before his mind accepted what she'd said. _Kiss me_ , she'd said. _Kiss me_. She was talking to _him._

Kylo lunged forward and crushed her mouth beneath his. This time he didn't pause for any niceties before thrusting his tongue into her mouth, moving his hands to cup her face and angle her head for better access. He tried to slow himself, but he wanted to eat her alive.

Rey gasped, grasping his arms to steady herself. The muscles flexed beneath her hands, and she wanted to pull his shirt off so she could see them.

Then he began to suck at her tongue, and blood rushed to her head. Her knees buckled and then his arms were around her, supporting, his hands greedy and remorseless.

She couldn't think, she couldn't—words didn't make sense. She wanted him to continue, she couldn't imagine him stopping. She'd die if he stopped.

He pulled back a little, drawing her lower lip between his and laving it with his tongue. She stroked his arms, so powerful, so intimidating, so careful with her. The sound of his mouth on hers made her whimper.

He drew down, trailing kisses across her jaw and beneath her ear. She began to pant a little, wrapping her arms around his neck. She felt like she was flying. She was dreaming, surely. Nothing in life was this sublime.

"This isn't just tonight," he grated against her ear. "Do you understand? It's forever. I don't want this if it isn't forever."

She gasped, tightening her arms. "Forever." He'd be hers forever. She'd be his. No one could pull them apart.

He lifted her onto the bed and sank down over her. He was huge and powerful, enough that he made her feel small and fragile, something she hadn't felt in years. She wasn't fragile, and hadn't been since she was a child. Yet instead of feeling vulnerable she felt exalted.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck and kissed her, softly, softly. After a moment of feeling his lips feathering against her she realized he was actually murmuring so quietly she couldn't hear him. She wasn't even sure she was meant to.

She stilled his hands. "I haven't done this before. Any of this."

"Good," he growled. It made him unreasonably, viciously happy. She was his. On some level she'd known it even before they'd met. He would be the first to taste her, to bruise his fingerprints into her hips, to know the clasp of her body. The first and the last. The knowledge intoxicated him. "You'll like it."

"I know." Which she did. But… "You've done it?"

His head jerked up. He looked stricken. "It didn't matter before you. Nothing mattered."

"And no one?"

He scowled. "No one else could ever matter." He raised to crouch over her, his expression intense. "It was empty."

"This doesn't feel empty," she whispered, turning her face into his hand.

He cupped her cheek. "It could never be empty between us."

"Why?"

"Because we love each other."

She began to shake. She'd felt it herself, felt sure he cared for her as well. But to hear him say it so nakedly shook her. She'd never heard that, not once. No one had ever loved her. No one had even cared enough to pretend.

"Tell me again," she whispered.

He tipped her chin up, brushing his lips against hers. "I love you. You're everything to me."

"You won't leave me? Ever?"

"I'll never leave you. We were born for each other, Rey. _Born for each other._ The rest of our lives was a penalty, it was the price we had to pay for this. Most people pay after, but we paid first. This is our reward."

She teared up, and he covered her face with kisses, whispering soothingly.

"Now. Now, don't wait."

He chuckled a little raggedly and grasped the hem of her shirt. "Let me see you."

She sat up, helping him pull it over her head.

"So beautiful," he whispered reverently. He leaned forward, rubbing his face against her breasts. She sank down and buried her hands in his hair. She loved the feeling of it slipping between her fingers, whispering against her nipples. The smile dropped from her face as he turned his head and engulfed her nipple, worrying it between his lips.

Rey gasped, pressing her thighs together. The place between them ached, and she rubbed them together.

He released her first nipple to suckle at the other, grazing it with his teeth. She squirmed in response, jumping a little when she felt his hand between her thighs, stroking his fingers down where they met and coaxing them apart.

She parted them shakily and his hand slid against her, rubbing along the center of her underwear, soft at first, then more insistent.

She mumbled indistinctly, and Kylo released her reddened nipple to look up. "What?"

Her voice was thick, guttural. It grabbed at his intestines and pulled. "Take them off."

His fingers curled over the top of her panties. "These?"

He didn't wait for a response, drawing the fabric down until her tangled curls were revealed. His fingers teased over them, and with a whine her knees dropped open completely.

He hummed in appreciation, sliding down to make a place for himself between her legs. He rested his face against the inside of her thigh and studied her unashamedly, memorizing every fold and swirl.

Self-consciousness flooded her at the sight of him staring at her _there_ and she tried to push him away, grabbing at his hair. He brushed her hands off without even looking up. "Don't begrudge me. I've dreamed of this."

Her cheeks burned at the sight of him crouched between her thighs staring at her. It was mortifying. But the awe on his face made her brave, and the urge to cover herself with her hands melted away. She'd do anything for him to keep looking at her like that. Like she was a goddess.

"You," she urged, and obediently he pulled his clothes off. She started to sit up, to get a better look at him, but before she could he leaned in and nosed against her. She shuddered, sick with anticipation. He sniffed at her, inhaling her scent, and she gasped at the intimacy. He stroked his thumbs along the seam and parted her lips, and then he was there, his tongue seeking, his lips worrying at her.

An inarticulate sound escaped her. He looked up, eyes alight. The sight of her there before him, face lost in ecstasy from his mouth and hands, made him feel more powerful than the Force ever had. _He'd_ put that look there, no one else.

He'd be the only one she ever knew like this.

Her hands pawed at him. He increased his suction, slowly sliding his thick middle finger into her channel. It sucked at him demandingly, and he bit back a groan. He added another finger, fighting to maintain control so he didn't humiliate himself like a youth who'd never been with a woman before. She began to push against his face and he jerked back, panting erratically. He hungered to give her release, but he doubted he had the control to wait until she was aroused again, and he was selfish enough to want to be inside her the first time she came. He wanted to feel her first climax milking him.

"Don't stop," she gasped.

He crawled up her body until his lips were brushing against hers. "I want to be inside you."

The need in his voice fired her blood. She wanted to touch him, to make him feel as good as she did, but didn't know how. She'd seen whores at the trading post handling men, and when touched they seemed to spurt immediately and then it was over. She didn't want this to be over.

He solved her dilemma by taking drawing her hand between them and wrapping her fingers around his shaft. "This is for you." He tightened his hand over hers, guiding her to pump him firmly. "You understand? This is yours."

"It doesn't hurt?" she asked, tentatively squeezing.

He shuddered. "The only way you can hurt me is by not touching me."

Her hand ventured down to his balls, cradling and squeezing, and he pulled her hand away. If he didn't get inside her quickly he wasn't going to make it at all.

He guided himself to her entrance and pushed inside. She was scalding hot and exquisitely snug, and he fought to regain a measure of self-control. "Are you all right?" he gritted.

"I … think so?"

"Do you want me to stop?" _Please, no._

"No, don't, just … give me a minute."

He dropped his head to her shoulder and clenched his jaw, his chest pumping like a bellows. _Wait for her. Wait._

Finally her arms came up to wrap around his neck. "Now," she whispered.

Slowly, carefully he withdrew. Before she could protest he sank back in and raised up to look into her eyes. He held her gaze as he began a steady rhythm. She couldn't look away, caught by the heated emotion in his eyes. She had no idea how long he thrust inside her before her breath started to catch, as if she were fighting something, she didn't know what, and then she was falling, exquisitely, endlessly, and he was groaning against her neck, and she was holding him so tightly she had to remind herself to loosen her grasp so he could sink down beside her. His breath was as hectic as hers, his eyes soft.

He hated withdrawing from her, resented the need bitterly. He moved to get a damp cloth, but she held him at her side, demanding as a queen, and he obeyed.

He'd studied for years under Skywalker and Snoke, searching for something he couldn't name, unable to find it in the mysteries of the Force. He'd never before felt the yearning in his soul answered.

But this, with Rey, was holy.

He knew, with perfect clarity, that he would never feel this way except with her. She was the enlightenment he'd sought, the family he'd mourned, the power he'd served. She made the vanities of his past crumble into dust.

"How do you feel?"

She was silent for a moment as she considered it, marveling. "Happy." That's what the feeling was. She'd thought she'd felt it before, mostly with him, but it was a shallow feeling compared to this. After a moment, she added, "Complete."

He pushed the damp hair away from her forehead, fussing a bit to get all the little strands perfect. He rubbed his head against hers, finding a comfortable spot and nestling in as if he'd been there the last night and all the nights before that.

He traced circles against her shoulder, memorizing her. "All you needed was your family."

He felt her smile against him, and smiled himself.

 _All you needed was your family._ When he realized what he'd said his smile dimmed. What a ridiculous thing to say. Family was the first rank who would betray you, from everyday disappointments to jettisoning you like trash when you were inconvenient to their very important lives.

But that wasn't Rey. He could sense in her the same desperate need for connection that had plagued him, a need always left unfulfilled. She was the family he'd always needed, even before he'd met her.

He was right. She'd been born for him.

Maybe he should send his miserable uncle a thank-you note. His bloodless devotion to the Jedi order had sent Rey to that shithole Jakku, left her craving love and devotion. Things Kylo had been made to give her.

His arms tightened around her. He'd never give Skywalker or anyone connected to the Resistance any clue of where to find them. If they tried to take her from him, they'd be very sorry indeed.

She was his, and he was never letting her go.


	3. Chapter 3

**Note:** Thank you to the lovely people who reviewed-you're very much appreciated.

 **Warning:** This chapter contains period play.

The ship skimmed over Naboo slowly enough to appreciate the world's beauty. The planet was exquisite, covered in water and trees and elegant cities. It was hard for Rey to believe that it existed in the same galaxy as Jakku.

Their grandmother really had been a queen. Kylo had shown her footage on the HoloNet of a beautiful woman with elaborately dressed hair and a lavish gown encrusted with jewels. She had ruled a world, and Rey had been dumped on a ruined planet and forced to scour for bits of junk to keep from starving.

Their grandmother could never have imagined it, surely. She must have believed that her children and their children and on for years would be safe and well. Yet her family had shattered after her death, losing each other and drifting through the galaxy wreaking havoc.

Rey thought of how easy it would be to lose Kylo and went cold.

"There it is. Varykino."

Rey jerked herself back to the present. Below them, on a lake island, was a mansion surrounded by gardens. It was there their grandparents had fallen in love and married. If she'd survived childbearing, surely that's where they would have raised their children. Rey would have visited in her childhood, known her family.

Maybe her father would have loved her then.

She wouldn't have met Kylo when he pursued her through a forest, but instead known him from childhood. Maybe he wouldn't have fallen to a monster like Snoke if she'd been there for him. Their family had failed him, too.

The only reason he wasn't with Snoke now, she knew, was because of her. It was the first thing that told her he cared about her, before he'd ever said a word of love. He'd left the man who'd ruled his life since he was a boy for her, because she'd said she didn't want to be near him. And Kylo had agreed.

It was the first time she understood what it was to have a family.

"It's beautiful."

He smiled. "I thought you'd like it."

There were, he'd told her, a couple of ancient aunts left, ensconced in the family's estate, where their grandmother had grown up. Like the lake house, it was too risky to stop there, but they'd be able to fly over and imagine their grandmother there as a child, playing on the grass and walking in the gardens. And someday they'd come back, and walk those paths themselves.

The Naberrie estate, however, was in the west. And although they were now past Varykino, Kylo was still flying north.

"Kylo?"

He wasn't smiling anymore, and his eyes didn't leave the control panel. "There's a ship behind us."

She tensed. "Are they…"

"I don't know."

"Why aren't we lifting off?"

"Because that would be confirmation. If we try to evade it'll put a target on us. Right now they don't know anything. If they did they would have attacked."

"So what do we do?"

He grunted, "Take the conn."

She took over the piloting duties, which were usually hers anyway. "What now?"

"Head to Gallus City and lose them in the traffic. After we shake them we'll head for the nearest hyperspace corridor."

"What are you going to do?"

His look was grim. "Whatever I have to."

* * *

They'd never used their ship's guns. They were in good condition; Kylo wouldn't have bought the ship if they weren't. But firing them, like taking evasive action, would be confirmation. And if it was an unmarked First Order ship, they would be in constant contact with headquarters, so downing the ship wouldn't solve the problem. Not by firing on it.

Kylo's own inclination had always been to attack, furious and unrelenting. He had never had patience; his former master had punished him for that lack many times.

But he was powerful, more powerful than almost anyone in the galaxy. He called upon that power and reached out, stretching, feeling, grasping. He channeled his fear and his anger until his mastery of the Force extended beyond anything he'd experienced and he was suffused with the purity of the Force, without the dishonest bifurcation of light and dark. He felt what he wanted in his hand, and he squeezed.

"Kylo!"

He opened his eyes. His hand was empty, and the ship behind them was dropping out of the sky. It slammed into a lush green meadow, cartwheeled a few times, and burst into flames. It would look natural to anyone who cared to inspect the wreckage, but he knew better.

A ship couldn't fly with a crushed particulate phase inverter.

* * *

The fog of sleep lifted slowly from Kylo. First he was aware of the body he was wrapped around, hot like the planet she'd lived on for so long. Then contentment made itself felt, a feeling he'd never known before Rey. All the years of struggling to find meaning, all the prophets he'd followed. Snoke, with his insane preoccupation with power. And the seduction he'd presented, that Kylo had desperately embraced, of following in his grandfather's footsteps and finishing his great works.

 _What a joke._

Snoke was mad. Kylo saw clearly now how unhinged Snoke been by his ambitions and past failures. He'd dragged Ben Solo in, a willing victim, too naïve and self-absorbed to recognize a monster when it flattered him.

And Luke Skywalker. A fool if he'd ever known one. So devoted to his order that he'd abjured life and love, even when it had shown up, beseeching, on his doorstep.

Anger flared at the thought of the solitary struggle Skywalker had condemned Rey to. So pure. So smug.

And his grandfather, Anakin, who'd loved a woman who was beautiful and strong like Rey, and had been loved by her in return. Yet he'd gone mad, choosing power over his wife, over his children. The first, but not the last, generation of Skywalkers to fail in the most basic and necessary test of humanity.

Vader had chosen power. Luke had chosen devotion.

Kylo would not make those same mistakes.

Perhaps it was time to help the Resistance along. After his abandonment of the First Order months before, he was probably not very high on their list of priorities. For years, even decades after the war ended, they would have to concentrate on rebuilding worlds and restoring order.

By then Kylo Ren, a man known only by his mask, would be unidentifiable to anyone still living.

With a jolt he thought of his mother. He pushed away any maudlin notions before they could bloom and decided to send some anonymous information the Resistance's way. It had nothing to do with sentiment. It was a practical matter, that was all.

He and Rey were creating a future together, and they didn't want to look over their shoulders forever.

He'd known, always, that he'd needed love, thirsted for it. Had never felt its surfeit. It was only now that he realized that the need to feel love for another was just as strong. His love for her filled and warmed him, a living thing that couldn't be contained. It was like having her warmth inside of him, nestling against his heart. He needed it to live.

He trailed a hand down her side, nudging between her thighs. She was warm and damp, as she always seemed to be. Always welcoming him in.

She was _extremely_ damp. He drew his hand back to sniff at her arousal, but sat bolt upright at the familiar smell, one he had known intimately for years.

Blood.

He scrabbled down the bed and saw, to his horror, that her thighs were stained with it. He touched her softly, and fresh blood dribbled over his fingers. Her life's blood, flowing out of her. Because of him. He hadn't even been aware of being too rough with her. Fuck, why hadn't she told him?

He grabbed a soft shirt and tucked it between her legs, then ran to the cockpit. He checked their heading and immediately entered coordinates to the closest major planet. His hands shook, and he forced himself not to think of Rey bleeding out before they got there. He would go mad if she died.

He couldn't survive with her death on his hands.

He remained in the cockpit, struggling to control his spiraling fear, for several moments. He cursed himself for never studying Force healing. Until Rey he'd been independent, his eyes only been on the next mission. What did he care for the well-being of others? And now she was paying the price for his smug self-absorption.

His chest was tight as he rushed back to their bedroom. Would she be falling farther from life? Would her sweet body be losing its warmth? Would she hear him as he comforted her?

He knelt beside her. Her face was relaxed as ever, as if untouched by the life leeching from her. He pressed his lips against her forehead. He remembered, from long in the past, that it was something you did when you loved someone.

She was as warm as ever, sunlight in human form.

Her eyelids slid open and she smiled. His heart cracked. He could not lose her.

"What time is it? It seems early."

He forced a smile. "Don't worry about that. We'll be landing on Corellia in a few minutes. We'll be there for a bit. You'll be able to see Coronet City. You can eat anything you want, I promise."

The smile dropped from her face. "Corellia? Are you insane?" she demanded, sitting up.

He grasped her shoulders and tried to urge her down. "It's necessa—"

"What's this?" Rey asked, pulling the folded shirt from between her thighs.

Kylo's voice was frayed. "You need to put that back and lie down until we land."

"Why didn't you just wake me up and let me know my period had started? I'm not sure the blood's going to come out of this. This might be a rag now."

Kylo fell back onto his heels. "Your period," he repeated, dazed. "Your _period."_ He dropped his head into his hands, unable to comprehend fate's kindness. It felt unnatural and illusory, something he wasn't allowed to have.

He opened his eyes and she was still there, bright and alert, frowning. "What did you think it was?"

He opened his mouth but no sound came out, and he could feel his ears turn fiery. Finally he mumbled, "You were losing blood. I never thought about your cycle."

"But _Corellia_? We agreed not to go to any major planets again until we were certain no one was looking for us."

"You were bleeding! I wanted to get you to a hospital!"

"There are dozen planets you could have chosen instead of Corellia!"

"You think I would entrust your life to some half-trained hick who's probably a spice addict?" Kylo scoffed.

Rey rolled her eyes. "Land on Tralus," she instructed, referring to one of the system's more sparsely populated planets. She flopped back on the bed, crisis over. "Or Talus. We might as well stock up on supplies while we're here. And we're getting some fried murat. And maybe other stuff. Maybe _all_ the other stuff. You promised, I heard you."

Kylo went to the cockpit, still shaky, and brought them down on Tralus well outside any inhabited area. They could fly to a more central location later; at the moment the only thing he wanted was to get back to Rey. The sense of unreality persisted, as if he would wake from a dream to find her lifeless beside him.

He returned to the bedroom and crawled over her. He needed her comfort.

She started a little, having already begun drifting off to sleep. Now she was covered in man, her man, his face buried in the curve of her neck and his arms wrapped around her. She gave up on sleep and drew her arms around him. He shivered a little. Poor sweet man had been scared.

She remembered the first time she'd bled, and how terrified she'd been. No one else had been there to explain, to worry or soothe or even laugh at her distress. She'd been sure she was dying.

She thought of how she'd feel if it were him bleeding. Of how she'd feel if she lost him.

She started shaking now, too. She tried to nudge his face up so she could kiss him, but he kept it buried against her neck. She pressed kisses against his hair, stroking his back and murmuring her love to him. She was still learning how to love someone and let them love her, and she made mistakes.

Finally he turned his face up. There were traces of tears on his face, tears she hadn't even been aware of him shedding. She pressed her lips against his eyelids, willing him to understand.

He ducked his head and began to cry harder. He nudged his thigh between hers and she parted them, cradling him where he belonged. He tried to enter her, but he was soft, and his sobs became audible. She felt a brushing against her leg and looked down to see him take himself in hand and pump desperately. He tried again, and this time he was hard enough to enter her. He pushed himself in to the hilt with no preliminaries, his way eased by her blood, then sank back down on top of her, shaking and desperate for comfort.

"I'm here. I'm fine," she soothed. "I'm fine." It felt odd to have him inside her without being aroused, full but not uncomfortable. She knew he would crawl inside her and live there if he could, and the knowledge brought her peace. She needed to be needed, needed it more than anything.

He rocked against her, his sobs gradually slowing. Finally he lifted his head and looked at her. His eyes were swollen and his cheeks damp, and he was beautiful. For the first time she knew she meant more than anything else in the galaxy to someone. For him there would never be something more important on the next horizon.

She cupped his face. "I love you," Rey whispered. "I'm not going anywhere. This happens every month. I promise I'm okay."

He raised himself on one elbow, beginning to return to himself. "We're not having a baby." He hadn't thought of birth control; he was a very stupid man. But he'd never had a relationship before. Now, with Rey, there was a future to think of. And the possibility of a bright little Rey darting about, her quick hands in everything and her laughter echoing.

Or a sullen, supercharged baby Ben, vibrating with the combined power of his parents. Maybe children weren't a good idea.

She lifted her eyebrows. "Do you want to?"

"I haven't thought of it. Not yet," he added. "I can get a contraceptive implant when we go into town."

"I can get one."

He frowned. "I meant what I said. I'm not letting some backwater excuse for a doctor work on you."

But he was fine with that doctor working on him. She gave him her sweetest kiss.

He sighed into her mouth, and she could feel his tension easing.

He hardened further, and his thrusts became purposeful. She wrapped her legs around him, not aroused, really, but relishing the feel of him inside her. He finished with a groan and she hugged him close.

The frantic thrum of his heartbeat was still slowing when he slid down her body and began petting between her legs. He fit his shoulders between her knees and set his hands along the inside of her thighs, already painted with her blood and his come. He leaned forward, blowing at her core, dripping with his spendings and unbelievably lovely.

She jerked up, pushing him away.

"What?"

"Blood."

"It's you," he said, puzzled. "Like your come."

"No, it's dirty."

He frowned. "How could it be dirty? It's part of you."

"You're not supposed to taste blood."

"I sucked your finger when you cut it yesterday. You didn't say anything then."

"Period blood, I mean. It's different."

He ran a finger along her, ignoring her shudder, then raised it to his lips. "Tastes the same. A little salty from the come."

"You're not supposed to eat that! You're not supposed to eat _either_ of those."

"Why wouldn't I eat my come? I eat yours. You eat mine."

She shook her head, obviously frustrated. "You're just not. It's wrong."

"Nothing can be wrong between us. How could it be?" His earnest expression made her heart twist. She relaxed her hold on his hair and nodded.

He dipped his head and nuzzled into her. He licked at her delicately before fastening his soft lips around her and suckling.

Rey tightened her fingers again, her head dropping back. In a few minutes she was thrashing and moaning, his strong hands holding her thighs open. He hummed against her, making her knees shake uncontrollably. She came in a rush against him, blood and cream streaking his face.

He pulled back and raked his fingers through her curls, reveling in the evidence of her pleasure. A little more blood trickled out and he followed its path with one finger, then traced it up again and watched more blood spill out.

Her fingers toyed with his hair lazily. "What are you doing?"

"Learning you."

She smiled. "I'm not sure how much more there is to learn."

"We have a long time to see."

He rose to his knees and reached towards her. She thought he was going to put his arms around her, but instead he stroked his hands down her torso, streaking her with blood.

"You look so beautiful," he whispered, eyes dreamy. "A goddess. My goddess. You're so dangerous, so powerful, but you brought me to life. You saved me."

He reached down and his fingers were at her entrance again, probing. It was much later that they both fell asleep, marked with blood and nestled in each other's arms.

* * *

This time when Kylo opened his eyes he was wide awake, his muscles tense. Someone was in the ship. He hadn't heard anything, not that he could remember, but the same instinct had saved his life many times in the past. Now it would protect the both of them.

Rey awoke as he rose silently. He held out his hand, gesturing for her to remain quiet; he didn't even notice that they were both still covered in blood. He didn't pause to dress or arm himself; he was all the weapon he needed. Someone was on their ship, looking to kill them or haul them to the First Order or just rob them.

And Kylo was going to send him back where he came from _in pieces._

Soundlessly he slipped from their bedroom. Whoever the intruder was, he was silent. Professional. Didn't turn on lights, walked with a light step. Seemed to know the layout of the ship.

Just didn't realize which bedroom they were using.

Kylo waited until the man had disappeared into the disused bedroom before following. Adrenaline coursed through him and he fought to keep it under control, felt his discipline fray as it hadn't in months. He would not lose. It was not possible. But he had never before had such stakes.

For the first time his life actually mattered.

He must have made a sound: The man swung around. He was big, heavily armored. Expensively equipped with a cutting-edge disruptor. One that could slice through the walls of the ship and pass through Rey before Kylo could take a breath.

The intruder wasn't there to rob them, and he wasn't there to lose.

Kylo shot his arm out to call the disruptor to him. Before he'd even completed the thought the man lifted his other hand and flung a blade at him. Kylo jerked back, tried to evade it, but the narrow doorway blocked his movements.

The knife sunk into his shoulder and he stumbled back. His blood flowed out, joining Rey's.

"Sorry," the man said. "Didn't mean to damage the merchandise. Just needed a little distraction."

The faintest noise sounded behind Kylo, and then everything went black.

Before Kylo did much more than register the hood thrown over his head he felt a ridged muzzle jam into his side. A particle blaster. He heard the low buzz that preceded its firing and, as if in slow motion, blindly slammed his elbow back at the head of the man behind him. A sharp crack sounded, and the man fell back with a muffled curse, the aborted shot fizzling out.

A roar sounded and the air beside Kylo heated and turned acrid, and he knew the disruptor had been fired. _Please, Rey, please be down on the floor, please._ He had no god to pray to, knew no religion other than the Force, but he would have prayed to every long-forgotten deity to keep her safe. He ripped off the hood, ignoring the man writhing on the floor behind him. He swung around and the first attacker was there, as large as Kylo, even more muscular, eyes as cold as an arctic ocean.

Then Kylo heard footsteps in the passageway, and there she was.

The attacker swung to face Rey, and a slow, nauseating smile crawled over his face. "So the rumors were true."

The man was between him and Rey, blocking his access to her. She was closer to death than she was to him. These men were here for him, and they'd found her, sweet and beautiful and gallant.

He wanted the man's throat between his hands. He wanted to reach his arm out, stop the man in his tracks, and choke the life from his body. He wanted to do that more than he wanted air, but at that moment, that moment that everything mattered, Kylo Ren could not feel the Force.

He shoved away his panic before it could take hold. Fine; he'd always enjoyed working with his hands. He took two steps before the man whose nose he'd broken leapt on his back and recharged the damn blaster.

Kylo didn't even try to dislodge the man, just angled to get a view of Rey. He had to see her, had to know she was all right. The big one with the disruptor towered over her and reached out as if to touch her, and that's when Rey brought her staff down on the sensitive spot where the neck meets the shoulder, and the man went down with a grunt.

The man clinging to Kylo's neck fired the blaster, and Kylo braced to absorb it. It wouldn't be a lethal jolt; they wanted him alive. He'd stood up after receiving a shot from the bowcaster, and this was a gnat compared to that. His muscles contracted, willing him to drop, and he ignored every lying impulse his body told him, focusing on the woman in front of him, the only person who'd never given up on him.

Two seconds. Three. _There._ He jerked the knife from his shoulder and swung it behind him, sinking it in the side of the man clinging to his back. The man went down shrieking, and now Kylo was strong again, knew he would not fail. In two steps he was on the man in front of him, who had regained his feet and was starting for Rey. Rey brought down her staff again, knocking the disruptor from his hand, and then Kylo framed the man's head in the last embrace he would ever know. Out of the corner of his eye Kylo saw Rey bend for the disruptor.

Beneath his hands the man's struggle went from defiant to desperate. He knew what was happening, and he knew he couldn't stop it. He was outmatched, a pawn sent to retrieve a knight and his queen.

With a final twist, an ugly snap filled the cabin. Kylo let the broken body fall as he watched Rey advance on the other man with the disruptor in her hand, then end his life with a single shot.

The first time they'd met she'd fired on him. She'd killed several stormtroopers first, then fired on him again and again. She wasn't an innocent; like him, her hands were red.

But not like him, not really. He told himself that so he wouldn't think how he was dirtying her. That he wasn't endangering her at every minute.

Kylo knelt and lifted the first man's limp arm, activating the device built into his wrist guard. He swiped a few times, then nodded grimly. He held it out to Rey. There was a clear picture of Kylo, his eyes shut, the scar she'd given him vivid across his face. It must have been taken while he was in the infirmary after Starkiller collapsed. Probably the doing of that fucker Hux. And beneath his picture—

"Reward. Kylo Ren AKA Ben Solo," Rey read. "Alive 25,000 credits, proof of death 10,000 credits." Kylo dropped the man's arm, but Rey continued to stare at it. What had happened on Vuln and Naboo weren't coincidences. He was being hunted. For that much money, they'd keep coming. They'd never stop.

The two of them had to find a place beyond the reach of the First Order.

"At least they want you alive," she ventured.

Kylo's expression was grim. "That means they want to punish me before they execute me."

Rey went gray beneath her tan. "You're not—they can't—"

He stood up and stepped back, away from her. "Rey, it isn't safe for you to be with me. They're crawling out of the woodwork, and you're not safe. I couldn't stand it if something happened to you."

"I can help—"

"You can. You're an amazing fighter."

For a moment, just a moment, she relaxed. He wasn't going to leave her. She would die, she knew, if he left. She'd been rejected too often. She could live without money, she could live without food. She couldn't live without love, not another minute. She would die without it.

And he was the only one who'd ever loved her.

"But I can't live with putting you at risk."

She reared back, panic filling her. "No. No, you can't do this. I can't be alone again, I can't do it. You said you'd never leave me. You promised! Why do you want to leave me?"

Tears stung his eyes. "I don't want to leave you," he said painfully. "Just thinking of it kills me. But I can't live with knowing you're in danger because of me. I'd give my life to keep you safe." He cupped her face, wiping her tears away even as he fought his own. "If I didn't love you so much I'd never even consider it. _You have to be safe._ I need that. I need it more than I've ever needed anything."

She shook her head violently, disbelief in her face. "If you do it, you'll be like him. You'll be doing the same thing he did. I can't, I can't do it. I'll go mad. I'll die. I can't, I can't—"

Her pain and fear flayed him. He shook his head in self-disgust, horrified at his own cowardice. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Rey. I was wrong. I won't do it, I promise. I'll never leave you. I was stupid and wrong. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I did that to you. I swear I'll never do it. I'll never say it again, never think it."

She shuddered in his arms, unable to stop shaking. "I'd rather die tomorrow than be without you," she said raggedly. He turned her face up and pressed kisses to it, frantically trying to soothe her. Hearing her talk about dying made his chest so tight he could barely breathe. It was safer for her if he left. It was even safer for him. But she needed him, maybe even more than he needed her.

He'd never had anyone need him. He'd only needed, desperately, and been left unanswered.

He was going to ruin it. He was going to get her killed, and he'd survive to grieve her. Or he'd die doing something stupid, something unbearably stupid, and let her down. He had no expertise at sustaining anything, only destroying things. She was precious and perfect, and he would be her downfall.

* * *

The war had been over for several years before Finn Calana ventured into the Polaris system. The planet he stopped on was lush and tropical, but he didn't really notice. He had bigger things on his mind.

Right now, though, he just wanted some junk food. His wife wouldn't let him pack any. She knew he'd just stop and get some, but she didn't intend to enable him.

He was making a beeline to the snack section of the shop when a woman passed him. He didn't even look at her, not really, but some instinct—the same one that had kept him safe even in the most terrible moments of the war—snapped his head around.

And there she was, a living memory. "Rey!"

The woman froze before turning around. When she registered who it was she smiled, but not the big, fierce smile of years before. This was the expression of a woman who wasn't sure how she felt about being recognized.

She didn't like to be touched, he knew that, but he couldn't stop himself from hugging her tightly. After a moment she put her arms around him.

"Maker, Rey, I was afraid you were dead," he blurted.

She pulled away and frowned. "Why would you think that?"

"We heard about Kylo Ren's death. The general and, uh—everyone."

She flinched, glancing away.

"We weren't sure if you were still with him. They didn't find much in the wreckage. Just enough to identify him."

"No, I wasn't with him. He…"

She was silent for a long moment, and guilt washed over him. Maker knows what she'd endured with Kylo Ren. "You don't have to tell me."

When she finally spoke her eyes were far off, in another time. "The First Order wouldn't stop coming for him. He hated for me to be in danger because of him. Finally he decided to make a stand. You know where it got him."

Finn was flummoxed. He didn't know how she could care about him, the monster who'd kidnapped and tortured her, who'd tried to kill both of them. But somehow she had, and she'd convinced herself that he'd cared as well. Finn knew, from what General Organa had said, that Rey and Ren were related, and that was why she had gone with him. He'd been shocked, but Rey's desire for her family had moved him. Ultimately it had inspired him.

Maybe it was the remembered power of that longing that had inspired Finn to search for his own family.

Rey shook her head, seeming to turn from the past. A smile spread across her face, freer than before, one that made Finn feel like he was again the just-escaped stormtrooper trying to find where he belonged. They'd known each other such a short time, but she'd never dimmed in his memory. It had been the first time he'd lost a real friend, and the memory was sharp.

"Why didn't you come back? Nobody blamed you. You were always welcome."

"That wasn't the life I wanted," she said, her face dimming a little. "I missed you, though. What are you doing now that the war's over?"

He nudged her arm. He wanted to squeeze her hand, but she'd never liked that. "I'm here looking for family."

She tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

He couldn't repress a smile. "After the war ended I searched the First Order's records. I was able to locate my home world and find my parents. They're still alive, Rey. I know them. I see them every day."

Her jaw dropped. "How—how did you—"

"They never left. They wanted to be easy to find. Just in case."

"They never gave up on you," whispered Rey.

"That's right. They always hoped we'd return."

"We?"

The smile dropped from Finn's face. "The First Order didn't hit Merilla once, Rey. They attacked twice. I have a brother, three years older than me. They took him when he was five months old."

Rey's eyes widened. "And he's here?"

"No, I'm just here to refuel and pick up some stuff. I've got a good lead. I told my parents I'm on a business trip, just in case it doesn't pan out. No need to get their hopes up."

"And you've been searching for him all this time?"

"When I find a lead. In the meantime, I have my hands full," he said, pulling out a holo, smaller and lighter than the kind used during the war. All those old weapons engineers had to do something to make a living these days. He clicked it on and the image of a laughing woman appeared, trying to convince three rambunctious children to face the recorder and wave.

"They're beautiful, Finn," Rey said warmly. "I'm so glad for you. Family is the most important thing."

He thought of Rey, who'd waited and dreamed of family for so many years, out here at the end of the galaxy, without the thing she'd most wanted, and his heart hurt. "Rey, come home with me. My wife knows all about you. She'd love to meet you."

"What about your search?"

"I'll swing by on the way home and pick you up. Or you can come with me—it would be like old times. Come on, we were a great team!"

Rey's expression was tender, but he could read the refusal in it. "You know, I've wondered about you for years, Finn. You're one of my happiest memories from those days."

"Rey, I don't want to lose touch again. The war's over, there's no reason—"

"Mama!"

Rey swung around, and Finn turned to see a girl of seven or eight, hair gathered in a familiar three-knot style, race into the shop. A boy, much younger, staggered in on chubby legs and hid his face against Rey's trousers, wrapping his arms around her.

"Mama, we're ready," the girl said, dancing around in a way he was very familiar with from his own three jumping beans. "Papa wants to know if you need help or if he should take us to the park before we drive him insane."

 _Rey was a mom._ He didn't know why it surprised him; she'd always hungered for family. But somehow, in his mind she'd remained forever young, his winsome companion of just a few short days—days that had changed his life.

To him she'd always be that bright, shining girl who could take apart a ship or take on a monster. But this was something he'd never imagined, and he felt a long-forgotten worry ease at the knowledge that she had what she'd most wanted.

The door to the shop swung open, and a man stepped into the doorway. His hair was night shot with silver, and his hunched posture made Finn flinch. He'd seen it before, in a dead man.

"…Rey?" Finn whispered.

The man in the doorway gave him a hard stare. He didn't move until Rey nodded at him and bent to kiss the boy holding onto her legs. "Go with your father. I'll be there in a minute."

The girl took her brother's hand and tugged him along, and the man swept them both into his arms. He gave Rey a long, searching look before leaving.

For a moment Finn smelled burning plasma, and he was there again, in Tuanul, in an armored suit. He was trapped, a stolen child grown into a reluctant soldier, and freedom was beyond his grasp. Rey was trapped now, this girl who'd withstood sand and starvation and war, trapped like he had been.

When Rey turned back to Finn her face was tranquil, and she reached out to squeeze his hand.

"It's good to see you, Finn. I've often wondered about you. You were my first friend. You have the kind of life I always wanted for you."

He knew what she was going to say, but he had to say it anyway. Had to make sure. "Rey, come with me. Bring your children. I can keep you safe. I have friends who can help."

She smiled, a cloudless sky on a summer's day, and walked to the door. "I'm right where I want to be," she said simply.

"I told you, Finn. Nothing's more important than family."

 **The End**


End file.
